


An Ode to Oral Fixation

by AubergineDreams



Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Body Worship, F/M, Gentle femdom if you tilt your head to the side, Oral Fixation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 00:13:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12947103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AubergineDreams/pseuds/AubergineDreams
Summary: Bobby didn't realize just how intense your oral fixation was.





	An Ode to Oral Fixation

It was a greedy side to Bobby’s otherwise giving and warm personality and he knew it. He was voracious in realizing how oral of a person you were and God was it his trigger.

Bobby should have known there was something _off_ when it came to how much gum and hard candy you kept on your person at any period of time. And when you didn’t have any left? You had taken to nibbling at your lower lip or "pruning" the inside of your cheeks to keep yourself occupied. It was to the point that even Yunhyeong paused mid-sentence to offer up his Nivea as a semblance to healing.

Hell, he should’ve known it when he’d take off his shirt and the look in your eyes wasn’t simply lust like he had seen with his fans, it was a particular kind of lust that made his hair stand on end and made him just burn to find out what that was.

Which led to finding himself oddly aroused when he muttered out between heady kisses to simply _let go_.

Despite your heels from a busy day at work, you had to hitch forward a bit on the platform to aim for the pinna of his ear, nipping gently to rev his engine. He loved it, but it was merely the beginning, not even an appetizer to what you had in mind with the broad expanse of a meal laid out before him.

Bobby’s neck was half of the first course – sensitive, an area of sheer experience because what better a location to just feel how much he enjoyed your methods, your _madness_. And you were absolutely right when you felt him buckle and fall back onto the bed with your unceasing affections unaffected by the action.

You would be sure to make the stylists angry at him – a small, vehement payback for all of their shit styling in the past.

“Holy shit, babe. Slow down.” You felt his moan against your lips, against your tongue as you traced his carotid artery and bathed it in a slow, hot stroke – only to sink your teeth down. The hitch of his breath, the depth of his groan and the grip on your hips was delectable.

His words became mildly unintelligible when you painted lower – surprised to find that his collarbones were so sensitive and that he whimpered when you actually avoided the carved out abdomen in favor of finding which area of his rib cage would make his muscles flutter beneath your tongue.

You knew his body, plenty of not-so covert observation assisted in that, but you really wanted to know. Wanted to figure out what patch of skin was erogenous on its own to save it to memory – wanted to keep the visage of his pink dusted cheeks, blown pupils and swollen pink lips as something only you could cause.

Even if it meant pulled hair, because apparently sucking on that taunting patch of veiny skin just below his navel made his hips arch off of the bed and his grip become quite painful.

“Gotta let go of me, baby boy.” Your voice pitched with desire. This was doing you in just as badly; your hips ached and your panties were certainly ruined the more you mapped him out.

He moaned, low and desperately while rubbing at your scalp with affection in his eyes. Even in the midst of it all, he never wanted to hurt you.

The adorable little shit.

“Fuck me!” If him performing or speaking in English was the experience of the lifetime of how low Bobby’s voice could get, freeing your delightfully sex-flushed boyfriend from both his jeans and boxers took the award.

All you could do was mirror his enjoyment with a dreamy moan of your own – your ovaries had to speak at some point to the sheer testosterone you always found yourself craving.

“Look at you.” You couldn’t help it, he looked more beautiful than ever letting you have free reign over him and it was a power trip you weren’t going to let go of easily. “Christ, never loved art much, but you’re my beautiful canvas.”

“Babe…” Bobby’s interruption made you click your tongue briefly, your fingers winding around his cock to stroke briefly as a warning not to do so again with a guttural groan. You needed him to hear your dirty thoughts – it was a driving force to praise.

“And I’m gonna cover you with roses, baby~” Your eyes roved along the long expanse of pale flesh to take in the blossoms of red that you managed to suck against his skin. Some were boarding upon purple with your ferocity; areas that he was more vocal in, gripped at you harder for indulging in.

God, Bobby was gorgeous, but covered in your handiwork he was as pretty as a picture. His vulnerability was sexy, sweet and the kind of push-and-pull that drove you to lean down and trail your tongue over the head of his cock, deep pink in color and oozing, engulfing him between your swollen and ruddy lips in a bobbing gesture.

“Killing…” He couldn’t get any more out, his spine bowing with the harsh gasp for oxygen.

 _Poor sensitive baby_. Your methods were time consuming, often a journey of discovery for your “victim”. It had to have been torture for you to work such slow magic on him. It would explain that wet stain that would surely ruin that expensive name brand.

But…a little more torture couldn’t hurt.

“Ahh~” What should have been a moan was more of a poor attempt at communication when you drew back, finding both hands on the back of your head to direct you back to his veiny, throbbing dick. A failed attempt you ducked away from.

Your shush was muffled by slicking you palm with saliva to resume stroking him with a flick of your wrist. It freed you to observe the rise and fall of his chest and the bucking of his hips. _In fact…_ You hummed softly, wedging your thumb against the tendon right beneath Apollo’s belt on one side. A firm press with a small wiggle made his thigh jerk and his hazy gaze shift to meet yours in confusion – or something of confusion.

You did it again while timing the pressure with your strokes.

“Fuck…” Garbled and low – so close.

“Maybe later~” You mouth found his hip, the area a tiny bit fleshy and terribly fun to nibble at while you continued to jerk him off. You wanted to savor this.

“Mouth…please.” His hands found your shoulders, twitching to clutch at the fabric of your shirt. The last unexpected orgasm splashed across your face, in your hair and into your eye, ultimately ending with a furious glare. A squinted furious glare.

You couldn’t say no to that whimper, could you? Could you really? You could.

Lip drawn between your teeth and lowered to hover over his thighs, you continued to torture him with slick strokes, the occasional drag of your nails, and the pressure of the absurdly sensitive nerve between pelvis and thigh…

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” The rapid succession of expletives made you smirk while watching Bobby fall to pieces with a throaty moan, a low rumble - a sound you had yet to hear in bed before, or on a stage, or just after waking up. And it was all yours for the taking.

Who knew his back could form such a perfect bow shape? Or that his cheeks could go such a shade of red? And to top it off, the Jackson Pollock mess he’d created on himself – Beenzino’s song briefly playing in your head as you released his twitching cock to lift your hand to your mouth, being sure to catch his gaze when dragging your tongue over your fingers.

“Evil.” Thoroughly fucked. Bobby’s voice sounded thoroughly fucked, and you’d be lying if you didn’t enjoy it.

“No~ this is evil.” With a swift shift his hazy mind couldn’t comprehend, you pressed your mouth to his thigh, audibly sucking and fluttering your tongue across the flesh. He bucked and jerked, giggling hoarsely while trying to fight you off in vain. This was aftercare of sorts, soft and playful.

Lips pleasantly puffy and sore from your escapade, you shucked off your shoes and your slacks to find some modicum of comfort, shivering at the cool air that met your dampness.

“Baby.” Bobby whined while reaching for you, the gooey haze of afterglow making him lazy and cuddly.

Or so you assumed when he pulled you closer, except, he didn’t stop pulling. Not until he held you firmly by your hips and managed to get you to straddle his broad shoulders.

“Fuck.” It was your turn to moan, teeth sinking down painfully into your lower lip at the lusty look on his face with tongue already poised to drag.

“Maybe later~”


End file.
